


Drunk and I Am Seeing Stars

by WildImaginings



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Romance, Smut, Smut Ahoy!, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:55:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WildImaginings/pseuds/WildImaginings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compilation of ask fics I've received and posted on tumblr. I'm not going to lie to you- this will be mainly smut. Pure, shameless smut. I'll add any warnings at the start of each chapter. As these were originally ask fics, they are entirely unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine.<br/>Title is from Lana Del Rey's 'Video Games'.<br/>I'm over on tumblr as wildimaginings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. #4- Masturbation

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from 100 kinks post over on tumblr. #4- Masturbation.  
> So yeah, I’ve taken some liberties with this. This is set during the run up to the 74th games. I’m assuming that both Haymitch and Effie stay in the tributes quarters in the run up to the games. And despite the high tech doors we’ve seen, for the purposes of this story, the doors to the rooms are normal doors that you can open quietly ;)  
> This story also presumes that there have been no previous romantic encounters between H&E- this is NOT my headcanon, but it worked for the purpose of this story.

As Haymitch Abernathy opens the last cupboard in the kitchen and finds it, unsurprisingly, devoid of any bottles, he not so silently curses Effie Trinket for the third time in as many minutes.  
Why she’d felt the need to start yet another crusade against his drinking he’ll never know.  
Well technically that’s a lie.  
It’s no secret that she’s disgusted by his behaviour both towards the tributes and in general, and he supposes she’s looking for a way to get him under control.  
That doesn’t give her the God given right to get rid of his hard earned liquor, and he’ll be damned if Effie Trinket thinks she can control him.

Haymitch slams the door shut and bangs his fist onto the countertop, his rage threatening to overspill from where it’s already bubbled to the surface.  
He needs to raise this issue with her and sort this out once and for all. He will not have his fucking _escort_ thinking she can rule his life.

Haymitch walks through the living room and instead of taking the corridor that would lead to his room he takes the route leading to Effie, fully bracing himself for the argument that he’s sure is going to follow.

The plush carpet ensures that Haymitch’s footfalls are not audible even to himself, and as he reaches Effie’s door he raises his hand, fully intending to bang holy hell out of it.  
At the sound of a muffled noise from within, Haymitch manages to still his hand a fraction of a second before it would have connected with the door; and it’s fucking ironic because he’s pretty sure that he wouldn’t have been capable of that had he had his usual bottle.

He pauses, and strains his ear to try and make out the sound. He hears it again, and this time he manages to make out that it’s a muffled whimper. Haymitch is instantly on guard, thoughts of his own savage nightmares flooding his mind and he turns to leave but is stopped in his tracks by another, slightly louder moan.

He knows he should walk away, knows that Effie would likely kill him if he came across her in such a vulnerable state, but he can’t let himself leave without checking she’s ok.  
He’ll just check on her, he reasons to himself as his hand blindly searches for, then closes around the door handle in the pitch black of the corridor. He’ll make sure she’s ok, that she’s not too deep in the thralls of a nightmare, and then he’ll leave.  
If she doesn’t wake up, then they won’t even have to have an awkward conversation about it in the morning.

He pushes the door handle down and silently pushes it open just enough for him to slip into the room. He closes the door softly behind him, thankful that the small click is hardly audible, and turns around to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim light in the room.

Instantly, Haymitch realises how much of a mistake he has just made.

Effie is laying on the huge bed, her head propped up on a pillow. He can see that she’s discarded the ridiculous amount of pillows that must have been adorning the bed previously on the floor, and it strikes him as completely out of character for the usually fussy and reserved Effie to have been so messy.

Well. She’s certainly not reserved now. 

She’s wearing a robe, and Haymitch dimly registers that it’s some sort of peach colour. He can’t be expected to be exact, when said robe is spread open to reveal her milky white skin, and he can see the rosy pink peaks of her breasts straining and erect, and _fuck_ \- he really should have thought about what else that whimper may have meant.

Her golden hair is loose around her shoulders and it looks soft. Haymitch wonders what it would feel like to run his fingers through it; to twist a lock of it around his finger.

Effie shifts slightly, and his eyes are drawn down to where her hand is resting between her legs. Resting isn’t the correct word really, because her hand certainly isn’t idle.  
Haymitch tries not to look too closely, tries not to focus.  
But then Effie switches hands, and the hand that trails up her stomach to flick at her nipples is wet and _Jesus fucking Christ_ , Haymitch is lost.

Effie throws her head backwards, and he trails his eyes downwards again, to where she is wet and glistening. She’s alternating between dipping her fingers inside herself, pumping them in and out languidly, before bringing them out to circle around her clit.

Haymitch knows this is wrong. Knows he should say something; should turn around, open the door and leave without looking back. He should probably have said something five minutes ago when he first found himself in this situation.

But then Effie throws her head back with more force, the movement of her hand increases in its intensity, her moans and gasps become desperate, and he couldn’t escape this even if he wanted to.

She’s fucking beautiful, he registers, and he wants to kick himself for not realising it earlier.  
How the hell had he not seen that _this_ was under those ridiculous wigs and stupid costumes?

He’s drawn out of his reverie when the hand that Effie has been using on her breast flies out to desperately grip the bed covers. Her hips, which until now have been steadily rotating on the bed suddenly surge upwards, and she cries out as her body jerks into orgasm.  
As Effie comes down from her high, her hand still moves between her legs but the hurried movements are gone, replaced by a more languorous pace.

She lets out a content sigh that sounds suspiciously like a word, and Haymitch didn’t think it possible after that display but the sound leaving her lips turns him on even more, his pants impossibly tight.

He realises a fraction of a second too late that he must have mirrored her sigh with one of his own when Effie tenses almost imperceptibly and jolts upright.  
The flush that covers her breasts is a pretty sight, and it’s spread up her neck and onto her cheeks, the pink hue spreading across her face.  
Her hair is tousled around her face, and her pretty mouth hangs open slightly, opening and closing around words that she doesn’t seem able to form.  
Her blue eyes, still slightly glazed flit down to take in the hardness apparent in his pants before they fly up and meet his gaze head on.

Haymitch steals another glance at her, robe still open, and he lets his eyes linger as he notices that she makes no move to tie it shut.  
Interesting.  
He locks his eyes with hers again and quirks an eyebrow, inviting her to comment on the subject at hand.

“Haymitch, I.. What are you.. what were you doing?”

“I think the question is sweetheart; what were _you_ doing?”


	2. #16- Dry Humping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #16 - Dry Humping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set at an undetermined point pre 74th games.

Haymitch isn't sure how they've gotten to this point; Effie straddling his lap, her hands gripping his shoulders tightly as his tongue licks a line along the side of her neck.

The night had been progressing in a way that hadn't been at all out of the ordinary.

Their tributes were dead (had been for days) and she'd been grousing him about his drinking, despite the fact that she'd clearly consumed a few champagne cocktails herself judging by the pitch of her voice.

After a good five minutes of trying, and failing, to tune out the sound of her incessant nagging he'd decided to shut her up in the best way he knew how; by grabbing the back of her wig and drawing her towards him until their lips had collided in a messy and forceful kiss.

Nothing unusual there; these types of kisses were not an unusual occurrence between them, usually taking place during their more hostile encounters as a way to end the heated exchanges that have been happening more and more often recently.

(Haymitch tells himself that the reason for this is in no way connected to his enjoyment of said kisses.)

Their tongues had battled for dominance until they'd had to break away from each other in order to take a much needed breath, and usually that's where things would have ended.

She'd have huffed, pretended she hadn't enjoyed it at all and made some snide comment about the state of his hair, and he'd have called her an uptight bitch and stumbled away in search of another bottle.

He's not sure what had tipped the scales in favour of change tonight; maybe it's the way she had bitten down on her lip and couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from his mouth. Maybe it's the fact that she's wearing less make up- her face is relatively unpowdered, and the gold accents around her eyes make them seem even bluer than usual.

Whatever the reasons, he'd tightened his grip on her wig, ignored her surprised squeak and dragged her lips back to his.

***

They've been trading kisses for a while now, lips and tongues lazily sliding against each other.

Effie's making these little noises that Haymitch has never heard from her before, and he thinks that if they don't kill him, the lack of friction will.

Her ass is resting halfway up his thighs, and he wants nothing more to pull her forward to rest against where he's hard and aching. But he's conscious that this is the longest she's ever let him kiss her, and he's loathe to do anything to upset the delicate equilibrium between the two of them.

His hands have been coasting up and down her back since they began, and he hesitantly brings them around her waist and down to her thighs.

He trails them down to her knees, circles the bare skin on display there, and slowly drags them back up, before repeating the whole process again.

Haymitch breaks their kiss and brushes his lips across her jaw as he makes his way down to her neck. He attaches his lips to the slightly perfumed skin on display and sucks, and Effie throws her head back as she tries to stifle the moan threatening to work its way out of her mouth.

His hands make their way to her back again as he kisses his way up her bared throat, and when his eyes meet hers he sees that her pupils are blown wide with desire.

 

He steals a look upwards and sees that her wig has listed slightly to one side, a flash of blonde visible underneath the intricate purple twists.

He brings his hand up to stroke along her hairline questioningly, and he catches the lock of hair poking out and wraps it around his finger.

"Take it off. Let me see you."

Her tongue pokes out of her mouth to moisten her lips, her hands still gripping his shoulders.

"I.. we're not.. Haymitch, we really shouldn't do this," she whispers, and she casts her eyes away from him as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth.

"I'm not expecting anything from you that you don't want to give Princess. I'm not going to ask you for anything you don't want.. just let me see you."

Her eyes meet his again, and she must be reassured by something she sees there, because her hands leave his shoulders and she hesitantly starts to remove the invisible pins holding her intricate hairpiece in place.

The whole process takes a while, and Haymitch lets his hands resume their stroking up and down her back.

 

When she's finished, she lifts the wig off her head slowly, reaches behind to place it on the table carefully and turns back to face him, her eyes not quite meeting his.

Her blonde hair is piled up and clipped on the top of her head, and before he has a chance to prompt her, she reaches up and removes the clip.

Blonde curls bounce around her shoulders and she drops the clip and brings her hands back to his shoulders. She's trembling, and Haymitch realises that she must feel uncomfortable, out of her depth without her usual armour.

He brings his hands up to frame her face, and he brushes his thumbs across her lips with something akin to tenderness.

(Haymitch isn't going to dwell on what that might mean.)

"Sweetheart… you're fucking beautiful."

Her eyes fly up to search his as if looking for the lie, and she must not find it there because she's suddenly flinging herself forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and crashing her lips against his.

She slides down his thighs and when she nestles against his hardness he moans into her mouth, a moan she echoes with one of her own.

It takes him a couple of seconds to register that one of her hands has left the nape of his neck, and then he feels her fingers wrap around the hand resting on her waist.

Her touch is hesitant, and she slowly brings his hand up until it rests on the row of tiny golden buttons that run down the front of her dress.

Haymitch breaks their kiss and looks at her questioningly.

"You don't have to.." he starts, but Effie cuts him off in a rush.

"We're not going to have sex. But this is ok.. isn't it?" She looks nervous again, unsure of herself, and Haymitch decides to put her out of her misery as he pops the first button out of it's hole.

He undoes the row of buttons until they stop halfway down the front of the dress.

It's pretty damn clear that she's not wearing a bra under this dress, and Haymitch utters a muffled curse as his thumbs trace down the line of flesh displayed.

He starts to part the material; slowly, waiting for her to change her mind and call this whole thing off.

But her hands are resting on his shoulders again, and she's breathing heavily, her chest heaving under the parted dress.

So he carries on, and when he's pushed both sides of the material back as far as they'll go, he's faced with the soft swells of her breasts.

Her dusky pink nipples are right there in front of him and he can't help himself; he brings his fingers up to tease one as brings his mouth down to envelope the other, his tongue swirling hungrily around the straining tip.

Effie gasps and jerks her hips down to meet his, and as he surges up to meet her, her gasp turns into a moan. It's a desperate and breathy thing, and Haymitch thinks he could get used to the high pitch of her voice if it's doing _that_.

He carries on with his ministrations for a few minutes, alternating between her breasts, suckling them in turn.

Her hips are desperately trying to grind closer to him but it's impossible from this angle and he can feel the frustration emanating off of her in waves.

Effie grasps his face in her hands and tears him away from her breast, crashing her lips against his and moving her body forward into the space she's just created.

She reaches down and scrambles to pull the skirt of her dress up, and he's greeted with the sight of a scrap of blue lace just barely covering her.

Bringing her centre to rest above the bulge in his (thankfully, loose) pants, she reaches her hands up to loop around his neck once more as she starts to rotate her hips with purpose.

"I need.. Oh God Haymitch, I need you to.."

She chokes out a strangled sob, and she doesn't have to finish her sentence, because he's bringing one hand down to grasp her ass, his fingers trailing over the ice blue silk as he pulls her closer to him.

He helps her for a while until her movements are sure and confident, and he brings his hand back up to tangle in her hair, the other hand still teasing the peaks of her breasts.

Haymitch can feel himself getting closer to the edge, and he knows Effie's on her way there too. The movements of her hips have increased in their urgency and her breathing is frantic.

She's trying to contain her gasps but every so often they escape, and once or twice he knows that he hears his name.

Haymitch can feel her heat through her panties, and he knows she's wet. He wants nothing more than to slide his fingers through her wetness, to feel her fucking herself on his hand, but he's not going to push her. Not when she's already given him so much tonight.

He's content to have this; to see her lose control above him and to know that he's helped her get there.

She comes with her head tipped back on a cry of his name, her body writhing against him as her hips falter in their rocking motions. It's the way she says his name, her strangled whimper that pushes him over the edge, and he slams his hips up to hers as he comes with her name on his lips.

They're both trying to catch their breath as their hips slow in their movements, and Haymitch reaches up and brushes his lips across hers. There's tenderness there, and Effie sighs contentedly as she returns the kiss lazily.

Haymitch doesn't want to move just yet, doesn't want to leave the cocoon they've created for themselves.

Tomorrow he'll be drunk and she'll be a bitch. But tonight he's slightly more sober than usual, and she's beautiful, and she's _his_.

 

And Haymitch thinks he'd like to hold onto that for a little while longer.


	3. #22- Spanking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #22 spanking & #50 loud sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _As the prompt specifically asked for pre mj, this prompt is once again set in the tributes quarters during the 74th games. I've also incorporated a prompt I received for #50 (loud sex)._   
>  _This prompt sort of ran away from me, and started to get insanely long. I could possibly be persuaded to pick up where it leaves off if anyone has any ideas or prompts they would like covered._

“How the hell am I meant to co-ordinate our outfits when Cinna insists on keeping his design a secret? I mean, what self respecting escort turns up without an idea of what her tributes will be wearing? I’ll be the laughing stock of the Capitol if we clash and I simply can’t… Haymitch are you even listening to me?!”

 

Haymitch rolls his eyes for what feels like the tenth time in the last ten minutes and wishes that he had a choice in the fucking matter. Of course he’s listening to her, when she’s turned the tv off and demanded his presence in the sitting room for a ‘prep and schedule meeting’. Whatever the hell that means. 

 

“Maybe you could ask Cinna to pick your outfit out for you and give it to you when it’s time to get ready.”

 

As soon as the words leave Haymitch’s lips, Effie shoots a sharp glare in his direction and Haymitch knows he’s made a mistake.

 

“Honestly Haymitch, do you even know me at all? Cinna is a fantastic designer, and while I have every faith in his ability to pick out a good outfit, I simply won’t entertain the thought of wearing something when I’ve not been consulted! I prepare these things in advance you know, and every part of the ensemble must match. I can’t believe you’d..”

 

Haymitch sighs and brings him hand up to his face, massaging the bridge of the nose between his fingers. He will not let Effie ruin the perfectly good buzz he’s managed to get going, thanks to the nearly empty bottle in his hand.

 

She’s still ranting, but she’s wandered over to the bureau on the other side of the room and Haymitch spots an opportunity to make his getaway.

 

He hoists himself up from the sofa and wobbles slightly before balancing himself and wandering towards the doorway.

 

“You need to loosen up princess. Let someone else take control once in a while.”

 

As he passes her, half bent over and shuffling through papers in the drawer, he can’t resist the opportunity to trail his hand lightly over the bright fuschia fabric covering her behind.  
An impulse overtakes him, and he lifts his hand and delivers a swift swat to her ass.

 

Effie’s reaction is instantaneous, and it’s not at all what he was expecting. 

 

Her body jolts forward, her breath catching audibly, and her fingers tighten their grip on the papers she’s holding.  
She catches herself a second too late, trying to cover up her intake of breath with a delicate cough, but her fingers tremble as she stacks the papers up. 

 

Haymitch’s eyebrows climb up his forehead and he thinks that maybe Miss Trinket wouldn’t mind relinquishing some of that control she holds onto so tightly.

 

He’ll have to file that information away to use at a later date.

 

* * * 

As it happens he doesn’t have to wait until a later date at all, as the opportunity presents itself later that night.

 

They’re in her bed because she refuses to set foot in his room, the various bottles and general state of the place apparently being too much for her to bear.  
Their clothes have long since been discarded; his have been flung across the room, whereas hers are folded neatly on her chair.

 

Her hands are clinging onto his shoulders as his tongue traces the skin behind her ear, and she lets out a high, breathy moan as his teeth scrape across the sensitive skin there.

 

He’s instantly reminded of the noise she’d made earlier in the day, and he decides that now is as good a time as any to put his theory to the test.

 

He trails his hands down her arms, and when he gets to her wrists he circles them with his fingertips before lightly closing his hands around them.

 

There’s no missing the hitch in her breath this time, and Haymitch takes it as his cue, taking her lips in a bruising kiss as he shifts his hold on her wrists and lifts them above her head.  
She arches her back beneath him, her mouth moves fervently against his, and for a few minutes he is content to just enjoy making out with her, her hips grinding up against his.

 

Haymitch breaks away from her mouth to shift his attention to her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark that he knows she would usually be furious at him for, but Effie just throws her head back on a moan.

 

“Do you like this?” Haymitch asks, as he presses her hips down into the mattress and flexes his grip on her wrists. A blush creeps across Effie’s cheeks and for a second Haymitch doesn’t think she’s going to answer him, but she bites her lip and nods her head jerkily.

 

“Yes, I… yes” she breathes, and she whimpers prettily as Haymitch trails the hand that isn’t gripping her wrists down her body and swipes it through her wetness, once, twice.

 

She’s wet enough that Haymitch is confident enough to move onto the next step in his experiment.

 

Haymitch pulls her up by her wrists, but he’s not rough. The purpose of this exercise is not to hurt her; the last thing he wants to do is _hurt_ her, and Haymitch doesn’t really want to dwell on exactly what that means.

 

He motions for her to rest on her hands and knees, and the way her teeth clamp down onto her bottom lip tells Haymitch that she’s got at least some idea of where this is heading.

 

Haymitch takes a moment to admire the view once she’s situated, feasting his eyes on the sheer amount of milky white skin laid bare for his eyes only.

 

He trails his hands over the curve of her ass and he swears he hears Effie make a disappointed noise when he keeps going, dragging the palms of his hands down and over the backs of her thighs.

 

He slips one hand in between her thighs as the other comes up to rest on her ass, and as he parts her glistening folds with his fingers he hears her take a breath in anticipation.

 

He’s going to take his time with her, he decides. He’s going to tease her until she’s begging for more, until she’s pleading for release.

 

Haymitch touches her with no real intent first of all, content to just feel and explore and hopefully work her into a frenzy as he does so. He drags his fingers through her wetness, bringing them up to her clit but avoiding touching it directly, instead circling around it with a languid pace.  
He brings his hand down, and slowly sinks one finger into her blisteringly hot heat, her warmth and wetness dragging him in, enveloping him. He pumps it slowly in and out a couple of times before he adds a second finger, and Effie lets her approval be known when she pushes back against him and moans softly.

 

As his fingers carry on sliding in and out of her wet heat he brings his thumb up and swipes it across her clit, and Effie throws her head back as her moans increase in volume.  
He thinks about telling her to be quiet, but then he realises that really, there’s no point. 

 

The bugs that are present everywhere in the Capitol have likely picked up their previous encounters over the past few years, and Haymitch knows from previous experience that these rooms are relatively soundproof. Let her moan- he knows he’ll enjoy hearing it.

 

He carries on with his slow rhythm for a few minutes before he increases the pace of his fingers, and when he curls them slightly and presses against that spot inside her, Haymitch knows it won’t take her much longer. His fingers are pounding into her relentlessly now, and she’s pushing back against them on every thrust. Her hands are gripping the headboard, and her back is arched so tightly it looks like she’s ready to snap in two.

 

He finally gets the cue he’s been waiting for when she gasps out his name, and he lifts the hand that’s been resting on her ass and brings it down in a stinging slap.  
She lets out a strangled cry, and he feels her tighten around his fingers in excitement.  
He knows he hasn’t hurt her; the wetness coating his fingers is enough to tell him that, but he needs to check. He will not hurt her.

 

“Did you like that?” he asks as calmly he can manage, although he can feel his blood pumping through his veins, and his heartbeat is in his ears and he feels like he’s ready to come just from watching the look that flits across her face as she turns her head to face him.

 

“Oh God Haymitch, I… yes. Yes I liked it, I...oh, I…” she bites her lip and moans, and _fuck_ , he thinks that may be the single most sexy thing he’s ever heard in his sorry life.

 

“Tell me” he asks, and she dips her head, the blush reappearing across her face.

 

“Tell me” he demands, and he brings his hand up again and lets it fall against her ass in another smack.

 

And just like that, the last strands of control she’s been so tenuously holding onto, snap.

 

“Oh Please Haymitch God please, I’ve never.. I want you to… _fuck_ Haymitch please don’t stop.”

 

In all the times he’s been with Effie Trinket like this (well no; never _quite_ like this) he has **never** heard her swear, and at the sound of the word leaving her lips he feels himself harden further, and he’s not going to be able to hold himself back much longer, because it’s almost painful in its intensity.

 

He redoubles the efforts of his fingers, swipes his thumb relentlessly over her clit, and it takes just two more swift spanks of his hand against her ass before she’s coming with a wail, her wetness flooding his fingers and her body shaking with the force of her climax.

 

He slows the pace of his fingers inside her as she comes down from her high, and he strokes his hand across the slightly reddened cheek in front of him.

 

Effie lets out a shuddering sigh that sounds like it might be his name as she shakily pushes herself up onto her knees and twists around to face him.

 

She loops her arms around his neck as she presses the front of her body flush against his, his hardness brushing against the soft skin of her belly.

 

As she brushes her lips lazily against his, her hand slowly making it’s way down his chest, Haymitch thinks that perhaps he should use his initiative more often.


	4. Extravaganza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one shot is ridiculous, and it combines various prompts.  
> The prompts it includes are: #48 (I love you), #85 (wake up in the middle of the night and have sex, then go back to sleep), #92 (by the fire) & #93 (Christmas).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I was writing this fic, I also received two prompts for #6 (oral sex) which is included in this story. One of the prompts specifically asked for it to be their first time though, which this is not, so little nonnie who wanted first time #6- I will try and write you a fic featuring this, but I hope this is enough to tide you over until then.

Effie rubs the sleep from her eyes as she looks around the room, blearily trying to make sense of her surroundings. 

She’s on the sofa, and she realises that she must have fallen asleep, her exhaustion clearly getting the better of her. She dimly registers that the fire has almost burned out, the fading red embers casting a dim glow around the room, the only other light coming from the flickering lights on the Christmas tree.

She becomes conscious of the fact that she’s not alone when the arm flung across her waist tightens its hold, and she feels the warm weight of another body pressing against her back.

At some point in the evening, Haymitch had evidently decided that it wasn’t worth the hassle of waking her up in order to make his way to bed, and she can feel that he’s pulled the blanket from the back of the sofa down so that it’s covering the both of them.

Effie shifts, careful not to wake him as she twists her body around in his grip until they’re face to face; he looks almost peaceful in his sleep, she notes.

His nightmares have been steadily diminishing since she came to 12 all those months ago, and sometimes when she wakes up next to him in the mornings, he looks almost rested.

Haymitch has been remarkably patient with her over the last couple of weeks, she muses, putting up with her over enthusiastic plans for the holiday season even though it’s clear that he’s slightly bemused by the whole thing.

It seems that Christmas in 12 isn’t celebrated to the same degree as it is in the Capitol. Effie’s not surprised really; it’s not like any of the districts (and this district in particular) have had anything to celebrate in the past, and at that thought she feels a familiar hot lick of shame settling in her stomach.

She shakes the pang of guilt away, determined not to dwell on it, and instead focuses her attention on Haymitch once more.

He’s gone along with her over the top plans, smiling puzzledly as she’s hung stockings on fireplaces and baubles from the branches of the huge tree currently overtaking a good portion of the room.

The tree had been her idea too, and she’d dragged Haymitch along to pick it out.  
Although he hadn’t gotten involved in the actual choosing of said tree, he’d helped the shop assistant drag it out of the store and into the delivery truck, muffled curses audible as the sharp needles had dug into his skin through his thick winter clothes.

The whole house has been taken over, a victim of her Christmas spirit, and Haymitch hasn’t complained.

Well. _Not really_. He’s grumbled and groused, but there’s been a distinct lack of anger in his manner, and Effie is struck by an intense feeling of gratitude towards the man lying in front of her.

It must be after midnight now, Effie registers, which means that technically, it’s already Christmas Day.

“Merry Christmas Haymitch” Effie whispers as she leans forward and brushes her lips against his in a featherlight kiss. His lips are slightly chapped, and she can’t resist prolonging the kiss, moving her lips against his but still keeping it relatively chaste.

Haymitch must be starting to wake up properly now, because his lips are starting to move against hers and when his tongue swipes across her lips, Effie realises that she wants more.  
Her hand tracks its way down his bare chest until she reaches the flannel of his bottoms, pulling lightly on the tie that she encounters there.

She waits for his eyes to open and focus on hers, and then she trails her fingers down and traces over the length of him, feeling him start to harden against her fingertips.

“Well hello to you too sweetheart” he murmurs against her lips, his voice still clouded with the remnants of sleep. His hand strokes down her back, trailing over the silk of her camisole until he’s resting on the shorts that cover her ass.

Effie smiles at him softly, and touches her lips to his again. “Hello” she breathes, just as she grips him gently through his pyjama bottoms, the catch in his breath not going unnoticed.

“I was just thinking,” she muses, as she slowly starts to move her hand up and down over his cock, “how patient you’ve been with me over the last couple of weeks,” he slips his tongue into her mouth and for a few seconds she lets him cut off her speech, swiping her tongue against his in a fiery kiss.

She breaks away reluctantly and continues. “And I was thinking.. that sort of patience deserves to be rewarded. Would you like to be rewarded, Haymitch?”

He raises his eyebrows and smirks at her, his hips lazily thrusting as she continues to palm his cock.

“I deserve to be rewarded, huh? Never thought I’d hear those words from you, Princess.”

He’s teasing her, she knows, but she needs him to know how much she appreciates him, how much she loves him for everything that he is, not just for what he does for her. She’s told him before, but she sometimes thinks that he doesn’t truly grasp the depth of her feelings for him.

“I want to show you how much you mean to me. I love you,” she sighs, and he takes her lips in a bruising kiss as way of a response, momentarily distracting her from the task at hand.  
He’s wedged his leg in between her thighs, and she lets herself grind against him for a few minutes, the silk of her shorts absorbing the pooling wetness and molding to her clit like a second skin.   
She can feel herself becoming breathless, and reluctantly she stops the rocking motions of her hips as she lifts herself up and away.

Effie coaxes him onto his back and settles in the space between his thighs, shuffling down slightly until she’s at the right level. She tugs the waistband of his bottoms and urges him to lift his hips slightly, and she pulls them over and down until his cock springs free in front of her face.

Haymitch gasps a little at that, she imagines from the sudden feeling of air against his skin, and she wraps her warm hand around where he’s hot and hard, stroking up and down slowly as her other hand trails down his thigh, nails ghosting a trail down as his hips rise up off the sofa.

There’s a few beads of moisture gathered at the head of his cock, and Effie purses her lips together and blows softly, his exclaimed “ _fuck_!” causing her clit to throb needily.

She leans down and presses an open mouthed kiss to the base of his cock, repeating the motion as she works her way up. When she reaches the head, she flicks her tongue against him, collecting the wetness gathered there as her hand trails down and grips him more firmly.

She looks up and he’s staring at her dazedly, his lips parted and his eyes blackened with lust. She makes sure to hold his gaze as she takes him in her mouth, and his hand comes down to tangle in her hair, holding it back so he can watch her face.

He’s groaning now as she sucks him steadily, her mouth taking more of his cock on each downward stroke. On the next downward bob of her head, she takes as much of his cock as she can into her mouth and gives him one long and firm suck on the way back up, letting him slip from her lips with an audible pop as she reaches the tip.

She pumps him a few times in her hand, catching her breath as she watches him closely.

“Do you like this?” she asks breathily, licking her lips as she watches him watching her.

“Jesus fucking Christ Eff.. how could I not like this? You’re fucking amazing,” he chokes out as he thrusts up into her slick hand.

His words send a thrill through her body, and she feels beautiful and powerful under his gaze.

She wraps her mouth around him again, sucking him hard and swirling her tongue against his cock as she does so. 

“Fuck.. your mouth.. oh fuck,” he pants, and she redoubles the efforts of her mouth.   
She can hear whimpers and it takes her a while but she finally realises they’re coming from her; she’s moaning hotly around his cock, and this is clearly affecting her more than she thought it would.

It seems the moans are too much for Haymitch, because it’s not long before he’s grasping her face in his hands and pulling her away from his cock with a muffled groan.

“Keep that up much longer and I’m going to embarrass myself. Need to be inside you,” he grunts, and Effie has to stop herself from sobbing with relief at his words. The silk of her shorts is soaked through, her slit slippery and hot and her clit begging for friction.

She reaches down and shimmies out of her bottoms as Haymitch grasps the edge of her camisole and tugs it up and over her head. As soon as her nipples are exposed, he’s on them hungrily, suckling and flicking and _oh god_ , she could come from this she thinks deliriously.

His mouth is tugging on her breasts, and her clit is sliding against his cock and she’s aware that the high pitched moans leaving her mouth are almost constant now.

She needs him inside, and so she pushes him down until he’s on his back and his hands are resting on her waist. She reaches her hand down and grasps him firmly as she lifts up and sinks down onto his length, causing him to utter a muffled curse.

Haymitch surges up to meet her and she gasps as he slides all the way inside, a broken sob escaping her lips as he brings his hand down to play with her clit as his other hand moves to knead her ass.

She braces her hands on either side of his head and leans down so that she can kiss him hungrily, moaning into his mouth as their tongues battle for dominance. Gradually, they slow their movements until they’re trading wet kisses; slow and hot and sensual, and his thumb is still moving against her clit, and she needs to move _now_.

Effie pushes herself up and away from his lips, trying to stop herself from echoing his disappointed groan with one of her own and settling her hands on his chest.

She starts to move her hips against him, struggling to keep her movements slow as she rakes her nails down his chest. She lifts up more and more each time until finally she glides up until only the very tip of his cock remains inside her and then she slides down as slowly as she can manage, enveloping him in her tight, wet heat. 

 

When she’s taken him in fully, she tenses her internal muscles, gripping his shaft tightly and Haymitch swears as the hand on her ass flies to her hips and digs in.

She repeats the process over and over again, until she can feel beads of sweat starting to gather at her brow from the exertion of holding herself back.

The hand that’s been sliding lazily around her clit suddenly becomes far more focused in its efforts, pinching her clit between two fingers and Effie chokes out a sob as she throws her head back.

She’s abandoned her earlier teasing, and she’s riding him with a steady pace now, clenching around him, fitting him like a glove.

“Christ Eff, you feel amazing,” Haymitch gasps, and she quickens her pace, slamming down on his cock hard and fast.

Both of his hands are on her hips now, helping her as he crashes his hips up and into hers.

“I need you to come Eff.. come for me.” She can hear from his voice that he’s on the edge, and he’s straining to keep himself from falling over it until she’s had her release.

 

She scrambles her hand down and flicks her clit once, twice, three times and she’s coming, coming hard and wet against him and crying out desperately.

He grips her hips tightly and thrusts his hips, his cock slamming up into her forcefully.  
He fucks her relentlessly, the pounding of his cock drawing out the waves of pleasure crashing over her.  
One final thrust and he’s coming and she can feel his release inside her, hot and heavy, his shouts echoing in her ears.

Their thrusts become sporadic as they both come down from their highs, and Effie can’t hold herself upright any longer. She lets herself collapse down against Haymitch, her forehead resting against his, and he takes her lips in a bruising, drugging kiss.

 

With great effort, Effie breaks away from the kiss and tries to get her breathing under control. Looking him in the eye, she bites her lip and regards him thoughtfully.

“Did you enjoy your reward?”

Haymitch looks at her dumbly and his mouth drops open slightly. He barks out a laugh and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her lips back down to meet his.

 

“Best Christmas present I ever had sweetheart.”


	5. Promptfest (aka so many prompts)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompts included are: #12- Sex game (my game of choice is “how many times can I make you come?”) , #6 oral sex (I know I've filled this before, but nonnies love to prompt oral sex, Jesus Christ), #23- Dirty talk (this will also be filled in another prompt I'm going to writing, and it will be 'dirtier' in that), #29 (in the bath/shower ) and #88- Sex marathon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS LONG. You know the drill- unbeta'd, so all mistakes are mine.

Haymitch makes his way up the steps towards the front porch, rain running in rivulets down his face and thunder booming overhead in the skies. He’d been making his way back from the market when he’d been caught in the storm, his light clothes proving no match for the torrential downpour he’d found himself in the midst of. Effie had warned him repeatedly to take a coat, and he scrunches his nose in displeasure when he thinks of the tutting disapproval he’ll probably be faced with when she catches sight of the state of him.

Fumbling with his key for a minute or so, he finally manages to get the door unlocked with a muttered curse. He stamps his feet on the mat, a pitiful attempt to try and shake off some of the wetness that’s weighing him down, and he hurriedly makes his way inside.

The lamp in the corner is lit but the room is empty, and Haymitch spots Effie’s magazine closed neatly on the the table.

Her coat’s still here, he notices as he’s pulling off his sodden shoes, so she must still be in the house. He hears a movement upstairs and wonders if she’s on another of her ‘spring cleaning’ missions. He hopes to God that’s not the case; he still hasn’t gotten over her last bout of madness.

Trudging his way up the stairs Haymitch feels as though the wetness from his clothes is seeping its way into his skin, and he can’t wait to take a scalding hot shower, the hot water warming him through to his bones.

Reaching the bathroom, Haymitch frowns slightly when he sees a dim glow emanating out from the crack at the bottom of the door and realises that Effie must have beaten him to it.   
He calls out her name and is greeted with her soft, “Come in.”

 

The lights are turned off, he registers as he pushes open the door, the only light in the room coming from the few candles dotted around the countertops. 

 

She’s reclining in the bath, bubbles piled high around her. Her blonde hair is piled up on the top of her head, and a few strands have escaped from the clips, the heat from the bath causing them to curl slightly around her face. Her eyes are closed but upon hearing him enter she slowly opens them, a soft and lazy smile on her lips as sees him.

“You’re wet,” Effie murmurs, casting her eyes up and down his body as she takes in the state of him.

Her words are slightly slurred and she sounds almost drunk, no doubt due to the blistering heat of the water surrounding her.

“In case you hadn’t realised, it’s blowing a fucking gale out there Sweetheart,” Haymitch retorts, and he snorts in amusement when she attempts to look at him sternly in response to his language, the bubbles rather ruining the effect.

“Why don’t you get in here with me and warm yourself up, hmm? There’s plenty of room,” she asks, her eyes drifting shut once more.

“I don’t think so Princess. Bubble baths aren’t exactly my scene.”

Holding onto the side of the bath with her hand, Effie pushes herself up slightly and her breasts peek out over the top of the bubbles. Her nipples react to the change in temperature almost instantaneously, hardening as they encounter the chilled air in the room.

“Haymitch. Are you _**sure**_ you don’t want to join me?” she asks sultrily, droplets of water cascading down her front, and Haymitch feels his cock stir at the sight.

 

It’s embarrassing really, how quickly he shucks off his clothes. He’s half hard as he pushes his pants down to the floor and Effie makes a soft noise in the back of her throat, a pleased hum which causes him to harden further.

Kicking his clothes into the corner of the room, Haymitch makes his way over to the tub, and Effie slides forward slightly to make room for him. He stands and lowers himself down behind her, careful not to jostle her too much as he settles. When he’s still, one leg either side of hers, she leans back against him, the water level having risen so that it covers her chest.   
His arms come around to settle on her stomach and she tilts her head back to rest on his shoulder, eyes closed and a look of sheer contentment settling over her features.

 

Her skin is slippery with soap, soft and smooth, and Haymitch tries to tamp down the wave of arousal that washes over him.

“I was wondering where you were,” she murmurs, one hand coming up to rest over his, and she entwines their fingers as her other hand lands on his thigh.

“Went to the market to try and help Peeta sort some things out for the bakery. Katniss has been on my case.”

Haymitch brushes their joined hands across her stomach lightly and presses an open mouthed kiss at the point where her neck meets shoulder.

Effie arches her back slightly, her chest rising up out of the water, and Haymitch feels his cock start to stir once more at the sight of all of that lovely bare skin on display for him. 

Untangling their fingers, Haymitch guides her hands down until they’re resting against his thighs under the water.

“Keep your hands here Eff,” he whispers in her ear, and she hums softly in agreement.

He skims his palms up and over the flat planes of her stomach until he’s cupping her breasts, his wet thumbs brushing across her tightened nipples. He squeezes them between his thumb and his forefinger, firm enough to have her biting her lip between her teeth and he keeps the pressure there for a few seconds. When he lets his grip slacken and release, he flicks his thumbs quickly across the hardened peaks and Effie tips her head back as a ragged moan escapes her lips and a flush starts to work its way up her chest.

One of her arms lifts from its position on his thigh and reaches back, her hand settling behind his neck as she leans back against him. His cock brushes more firmly against the swell of her ass, and he swallows the moan threatening to rise from his throat.

The hand that she’s been keeping on his leg shifts its position and clutches onto the side of the bath and she lifts herself up slightly so that she’s sitting on his lap, urging his legs together so that she can part her thighs as far as the tub will allow.

He’s still touching her breasts, pinching and flicking and pulling, teasing them in a way he knows is guaranteed to have her warm and wet and aching for him.

He licks a trail up the side of her neck, and when he takes her earlobe in his mouth and bites, her high pitched _**“Oh!”**_ shoots straight down to his cock, his hips lazily thrusting up against her.

He suckles her earlobe for a few seconds, matching the rhythmic tugs he’s giving her breasts and when he looks down he sees that her hips are rocking up slightly, seeking friction when there’s none there.

Her soft utterances are edged with frustration now and Haymitch takes pity on her, keeping one hand on her breasts while the other trails down her stomach and slips through her folds, the wetness he finds there nothing to do with the water surrounding them. She’s wet enough that he could slip inside easily, but he brings his fingers up to circle around her clit as he watches the muscles in her stomach jump as she sucks in a breath at his ministrations. 

His cock is painfully hard now, and Effie must sense his discomfort as her hand blindly attempts to reach behind her to where he’s hot and throbbing. He catches her hand before it reaches its destination and brings it back around to her front.

“None of that, Sweetheart. Let me do all of the work. You’re so wet for me. I can’t wait to feel you around my fingers, so fucking tight and hot. I’m going to fuck you with my fingers until you come for me, right here in this tub. And then, when you’re done, we’re going to go to bed and you’re going to come on my hand again. You’ll tell me you’ve had enough, that you’re done, but I know you, and I know how much you can take.” 

She’s panting at his words, his fingers still tracing a slow trail around the circumference of her clit, teasing but still not touching it directly.

“So then, I’m going to taste you. I’m going to tease you with my tongue until you’re begging me to fuck you, begging me to slide my cock inside you and fuck you deep and slow.”

She turns her head and captures his lips in a wet kiss, her tongue sliding heavily against his as she moans into his mouth. He takes advantage of her slightly distracted state and slips his hand down, easing two fingers into her opening. She breaks away from his mouth with a gasp of his name, her hand clutching the back of his neck, nails digging into the skin she finds there. 

“I wonder how many you can take. How many times you can come for me. Christ Eff. I’m gonna make you come until you’re fucking delirious.”

He’s fucking her steadily now, fingers sliding in and out of her heat in a continuous rhythm, stealing up every now and again to give a firm swipe across her clit. It’s difficult from this angle, but on his next inward thrust he curls his fingers just so, until he encounters the slightly roughened patch of skin inside her. The speed of his fingers increases, and he makes sure to rub against that spot that has her gasping at each bump of his fingers.

She’s writhing above him, a constant stream of jumbled words and cries escaping her lips.

“I need.. Oh God Haymitch, please I need you to.. I need to..”

“What do you need, Effie? Tell me. Use your words.”

“I need.. Oh God, my _**clit**_ Haymitch, please, please I need something..”

Haymitch temporarily removes the hand still attached to her breast and guides the hand not wrapped around the back of his neck down to the apex of her thighs. Moving back up to continue the teasing flicks to her nipples he breathes “touch yourself.”

She’s biting her lip again, an action he mirrors as he tries to get himself under control, determined to make good on his promise to have her incoherent and babbling with need by the end of the night. Her hand starts to move, rubbing firmly against her clit, and he bites down harder and wills himself not to lose control.

He can feel her tightening around his fingers in anticipation, and he brings his mouth to her neck and bites down on the thundering pulse he finds there.

Effie comes with a cry, thrashing above him, flooding his fingers with wetness and gripping him like a vice. He brings his hand down until it’s cupping her breast and slows the motions of his fingers as she’s coming down from her high, until they’re nestled inside her but not moving.

Haymitch waits until her movements have stilled and her breathing is under control, before he grips her softly around her waist and encourages her to stand on shaky legs. He steps out of the bath first and holds his hand out to her, supporting her as she tentatively steps out until she’s standing in front of him.

She leans up on her tiptoes and wraps her arms around his neck, eyes closed as she brushes her nose against his lightly. He lets his hands settle at the base of her spine as he touches his lips to hers.

“That was one.”

***

There’s a beat of silence where Effie is clearly trying to process what he’s just said. He can tell as soon as she’s understood the meaning of his words as she sighs into his mouth, arms briefly tightening their grip around him.

Taking her lips in a drugging kiss, Haymitch manoeuvres them backwards, careful to avoid the pile of clothes he’d discarded earlier.   
He has to stop halfway towards the bedroom, her teasing tongue distracting him, and he moves his hands down to her ass as he pulls her flush against him and grinds his erection up against her stomach. The points of her nipples brush against his chest, and he kneads her ass with both hands as he allows himself one more thrust against her warm skin. He needs to keep himself under control if he’s going to follow through on his promise. 

Tearing his lips away from hers, he backs her into the darkened room, a single floor lamp providing the only light, bathing them in a muted glow.

Kicking the door shut behind him, Haymitch spins them suddenly, changing their positions so that Effie’s back is against the door. He pushes her back against it as he lowers his mouth to her neck, his hands gliding up and down her sides aimlessly. He trails wet, open mouthed kisses down her neck, but doesn’t linger for too long, and when he reaches her collarbone he scrapes his teeth against the flushed skin he finds there. 

Effie’s lets out a moan at that, a high pitched and needy thing, and her hands come up to tangle in the hair at the base of his neck as he trails his tongue along the slightly reddened lines left in the wake of his teeth.

He doesn’t hoist her up into his arms; doesn’t encourage her to wrap his legs around his body as he explores her with his mouth and tongue, as much as he desperately wants to.  
He’s trying very hard to keep certain parts of his anatomy away from her, already unbelievably turned on just from the soft noises of pleasure that have been falling from her mouth.

Instead, he dips down so that he can finally take her erect nipple between his lips, ignoring the faint pang of discomfort the position brings him and instead focusing on laving his tongue over the straining bud. He gives her a long, deep suck and a gentle scrape of his teeth, just the way she likes, and sure enough she chokes out a moan of his name as she pulls almost painfully on his hair. He turns his attention to her other breast, showing it the same reverence as he flicks his tongue against it lightly.

Her soft moans spur him on and he releases her nipple from his mouth with an audible pop, thumbs tracing her ribs as he kisses his way down her sternum. There’s a soft sheen of sweat covering her body, and he can taste the slight saltiness on his lips.  
When he reaches her belly button, he trails his tongue firmly around it before continuing with his descent downwards.

Sinking down onto his knees, Haymitch hooks his arms around the back of her legs and parts them slightly. He looks up at Effie and finds her staring straight down at him, teeth worrying her bottom lip as a blush creeps along her cheeks. Her hair is still pinned up above her head, but more tendrils have escaped now and she’s breathing heavily, chest heaving prettily under his gaze.

As Haymitch strokes the back of her thighs lightly, he moves his face closer to where she’s exposed in front of him, and when he lets out a hot breath against her center she jolts slightly above him. She takes a sharp intake of breath, no doubt bracing herself for what she believes is about to come, but she exhales shakily when Haymitch bypasses her center and instead lets his mouth come into contact with the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

He takes his time with her, littering the skin he finds there with hard kisses and soft bites.   
By the time he gets himself to his feet, having ignored her wetness completely and ready to move them over to the bed, she’s panting, head tilted backwards to rest against the door.

She looks fucking gorgeous, naked and trembling and struggling to hold herself upright, and Haymitch rethinks his earlier plans, two hands at her waist encouraging her to turn around until she’s facing the door. He lightly presses his hand against her back until her front is flush against the door, and he hears the audible hitch in her breath when her nipples come into contact with the cool wood. 

“Spread your legs a little, Eff. And put your hands against the door,” he requests, and Effie nods her head in response, hands coming up to rest near her head as she widens her stance slightly. His knee comes to rest between her thighs, and he brings his mouth to her shoulders, teasing her with light brushes of his lips against the faint smattering of freckles he encounters there. 

When he bites down, she rasps out his name and jerks back against him, wetness coating his thigh, and Haymitch has to stop himself from forgetting this little experiment and just taking her here against the door. He lets her grind back against him for a few seconds before he reluctantly removes his knee, and Effie gives a whine of protest at the loss of sensation.

 

Moving his hand down over her spine until he reaches her ass, Haymitch takes some time to trace the soft skin on display there before letting his hand steal further downwards to stroke through her slick heat.  
“You’re dripping, sweetheart,” he growls, and Effie groans quietly at his words, her hips tilting back slightly as he lets two fingers slip easily inside her. He keeps them there for a few moments, not moving them at all, his other hand coming to rest on her lower stomach.

When he finally starts to move, he keeps his movements slow and unhurried, fingers softly stroking in and out of her heat as her muscles clench around him, trying to pull him in deeper. He resists the pull and keeps up his languorous movements, nails scratching softly over the smooth skin of her stomach as his cock brushes against the swell of her ass.

He needs to resist the temptation to stop his teasing and fuck her, and so he sinks down to his knees, fingers still thrusting lazily in and out as he uses his other hand to draw her legs slightly further apart. Her legs move on command, and he quickens his movements, blowing a cool stream of air across her clit as he continues thrusting up into her velvet heat harder now, faster, and Effie lets her approval be known when she cries out his name.

Her fingers curl against the door, and Haymitch increases the movement of his hand, ignoring the slight ache as he focuses on driving her towards the edge. But he knows she can’t come from this alone, knows she needs something on her clit to reach that peak. He could reach her from this position, but he knows that his movements would probably be clumsy, unfocused.

“Do you want to touch yourself again?” he asks her, and she responds in the affirmative, her breathy “ _ **oh yes**_ ” going straight to his cock. She reaches down, and her thighs tremble when she reaches her destination and starts to rub her fingers against her clit.

She’s moaning harshly now, panting and gasping and trembling as his fingers pound into her as hers fly against her clit. Haymitch can tell she’s close, so close to toppling over the edge of that precipice she’s teetering on.

“I want to take you against this door. Push you against it and fuck you from behind so hard that the door fucking rattles. I want you to fucking scream for me, Princess,” he breathes out against her skin, and that, coupled with a curl of his fingers inside her is all it takes.

 

Her knees buckle slightly as a desperate cry leaves her lips, and Haymitch anchors her in place with an arm across her thighs as his fingers continue to pound into her, prolonging her release. Her fingers are still moving across her clit, but they’ve lost their urgency, and when she stops their movement completely Haymitch removes his hand and pushes himself up onto his feet, lips plotting a path against her spine as he goes.

He brings his hands up to rest against her stomach, and as his mouth reaches her neck, he whispers “two.”

She turns in his arms and looks up at him pleadingly, eyes glazed and face pink with exertion.

“Please Haymitch, I need you inside me now. No more teasing, I’m not sure how much more I can take” she breathes, and her hand reaches down to palm his cock. Her fingers wrap around the length of him, and her thumb swipes through the beads of moisture that have gathered at the tip, and for a moment he forgets himself, closing his eyes and groaning as he thrusts up into her waiting hand.

He pulls himself together and reaches down between them, hand closing around her wrist as he drags her hand away from his hardness.

“Not just yet, Sweetheart. You underestimate yourself, I’m sure you can take a couple more,” Haymitch grins at her, and her lips pout slightly, not used to being denied what she wants.   
“Besides,” he muses, backing her up towards the bed, “I distinctly remember something about tasting you, and that doesn’t seem to have happened yet. Guess I’ll need to do something about that, huh?”

He feels the shiver run through her body at his words, and when they reach the end of the bed and the backs of her knees hit the mattress, he urges her backwards until she’s laying in front of him, spread out and on display for only him. Haymitch reaches for her thighs, tugs her until she’s at the very edge of the bed, and sinks down onto his knees in front of her.

 

He strokes his fingers over soft and smooth skin, careful to avoid directly touching her wetness, and when he glances up he finds Effie propped up on her elbows and watching him. Her eyes are darkened, and when he licks his lips, her eyes flutter shut and she moans in anticipation and Haymitch knows this isn’t going to take long.

When he finally parts her folds and licks a firm line up the length of her sex, Effie shudders, and her hand flies down to tangle in his hair. He finishes up with a single flick of his tongue at her clit, Effie whining helplessly at the sensation, before he makes his way down to tease his tongue at her entrance. Pushing inside, he starts to fuck her with his tongue as his thumb comes up to trace a circle around her clit, her breathy moans almost constant now. 

He’s surrounded by her; by her taste, her smell, her wetness, and he thrusts his tongue more firmly into her, his thumb giving a light flick to her clit. One more stroke of his tongue inside her and he withdraws, the sweet taste of her filling his mouth as he drags his tongue up to where she wants it most.

He flutters his tongue against her teasingly, before spreading her open fully with his thumbs, exposing her so that he can lick at her steadily. He knows what she wants, knows what it’s going to take for her to find her release, but he wants to hear her say it. He wants her to _**tell him**_ , so he continues with his teasing touches and waits for her to ask.

He doesn’t have to wait long, because suddenly she’s tugging on his hair and her voice is pleading and desperate, and “Haymitch, oh God yes, right there, please.. suck Haymitch, _**please**_.”

He closes his lips around her clit and does as she asks, pulling it into his mouth and sucking rhythmically as he shifts one hand to pump two fingers into her. The dual sensations catch her off guard, and her hips thrust up into his face as she comes, his name falling from her lips like a chant to the Gods. He matches the rhythm of his fingers to the rocking of her hips, and he carries on sucking her into his mouth before she’s desperately scrambling to force his head away.

 

Haymitch moves his mouth away but keeps his fingers in place as he pushes himself up so that he’s leaning over her where she’s gasping for breath, murmuring “ _ **three**_ ,” as his lips meet hers in a harsh and needy kiss. She gives as good as she gets, tasting herself on his tongue and moaning into his mouth, and then he feels her hand grasping his erection.

He moves to shoo her away, intent on getting back to the task at hand but she stops him, gripping his wrist as she tears her lips away from his.

“Haymitch, please let me. I can’t have you inside yet, I need a minute,” she pleads, brushing her soft lips against his slightly chapped ones.

“If I let you do that, I’m not going to last very long,” he mutters, eyes closing as her hand starts to move, pumping him lazily with her fist.

She chuckles lightly, “I wouldn’t worry about that. It’s not going to take me long at all. Only for a minute, I promise. Then you can work on number four,” she reassures him, her lips meeting his in a sweet kiss.

 

So, Haymitch lets her touch him. Lets her fist his cock in her hand and stroke him lightly, her pace maddeningly slow and teasingly soft. She pauses to swipe her thumb again over the tip, before resuming her previous actions, her grip firmer now and her the speed of her hand increasing. 

“Stop Eff,” he manages to gasp out after a couple of minutes, and her hand slows down, before reluctantly leaving his cock. She scoots back up the bed so that she’s lying fully on it, leaving him room to crawl between her legs.

“On your side,” he requests, and Effie’s eyes fly up to meet his, her breathing shaky as she complies with her request.

“Like this?” she breathes, and Haymitch hums as he comes to settle behind her, lifting her leg until it’s draped over his, opening her up to him. He knows she likes it like this; likes the way he fills her and bumps up against _**that**_ spot on each and every thrust.

“Go slow, just at the start,” she whispers, and Haymitch lines himself up and slides inside her, finally feeling her wet heat around his cock, hot and snug and wet and all for _him_.

He doesn’t move first of all, lets her get used to feeling him inside her after so much teasing.  
He only starts to move when he feels her push back against him, her muscles tensing around his cock.

 

He fucks her slow and deep, drawing his cock almost all of the way out until just the head remains inside her entrance, before sinking the rest of the way back inside. He rocks in and out, a measured rhythm and he can tell that he’s hitting that spot on every thrust as her mouth is open slightly, shaping around words she can’t seem to get out.

One of his hands is on her thigh, holding her open to him, while the other pillows her head. Most of her hair has escaped the clip now, and really it’s serving no purpose, must be digging into her head from this angle, so he gently removes it, throwing it behind him as he runs her hand through his hair. 

Looking down, he sees that Effie has brought her free hand up to tease at her breast, flicking it lightly in time with his thrusts. The sight causes him to utter a muffled curse, and his next thrust into her is harder, deeper, and Effie stutters out a ragged moan, squeezing her nipple firmly between her fingers.

“Fuck Effie, you feel so good,” he swallows as he tries to get his next words out, “do you still need me to go slow, or can I go faster now?”

She licks her lips, clears her throat as she tries to formulate her response.

“You can.. you can go quicker. You can- Oh God, you can fuck me Haymitch.”

Hearing those words from her lips is all he needs, and Haymitch grips her thigh tighter as he withdraws almost completely and slams back into her. She makes a noise that sounds as if all the breath has left her lungs and he does it again, determined to draw that response from her for a second time.

“God, you’re so wet. Feels so good inside you, feeling you throbbing around me. Fuck, I can’t wait to feel you coming around my cock.”

Effie tilts her head back and whimpers brokenly, and Haymitch redoubles his effort, hips smacking against her ass as he pounds against her g-spot with every thrust. She’s babbling now, sobbing out encouragements and curses and begging and _**Oh God Haymitch, harder please, please**_ and _**please, oh god your cock, oh fuck, oh**_ and he lets go of her thigh to reach down awkwardly and swipe at her clit as his thrusts become almost rough in their urgency.

She lets out a wail that may or may not be his name, coming with an intensity that seems to steal the breath from her, and Haymitch ruts his hips into hers, a few more deep thrusts of his hips all it takes as he buries himself deep inside her and comes, emptying himself inside her as a stream of curses flows forth from his lips. His hand leaves her clit and grips onto her hip, losing his rhythm slightly as he tries to prolong the high that’s washing over him.

 

When they’re both spent, and she’s trying to get her breathing under control, eyes closed and mouth slightly open, he slips out of her slowly, gently rotating her so that she faces him.

She’s flushed; there’s beads of sweat gathered at her hairline, and her hair is sticking to her face and Haymitch thinks she’s never looked more beautiful. 

Bringing his hand up to her face, he carefully moves the hair out of her eyes before ghosting his thumb softly across her lips.

“That was..” he starts, wanting to tell her how gorgeous she is, how much he cares about her, but he trails off, intent to just look at her face, eyes shining as they look up at him.

“That was four,” she whispers, a soft smile spreading across her face as she shifts forward to touch her lips to his.

 

**Haymitch laughs.**


	6. #4 Masturbation- PART TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I received a couple of prompts to continue CHAPTER 1 that filled the prompt for masturbation (and walking in on someone masturbating.) So, uh- here it is. This is so far fetched, and would never happen, and I’m aware it’s OOC but let’s look at this as a slight AU, hmm? After all; fanfiction is, in its nature, AU. If you haven't read chapter one, read it because this won#t make much sense otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This also fills the prompts for oral sex (first time, E to H), 23 dirty talk, and sex toys (the ask requested extreme sex toys, but I couldn't do that!)

_**“I think the question is sweetheart; what were you doing?”** _

Effie’s blush seems to intensify under his gaze. Her right hand remains trapped between her legs, which are pressed closely together, and her other hand opens and closes on the bed sheets. Her robe still hangs open, her pert breasts fully exposed and Haymitch wonders if she just hasn’t realised, or if she wants him to look. He feels a small thrill run through him at the thought that it may be the latter.

“I was.. well, I was just..” she stutters, a look of indignation crossing her features when she looks up and sees the smirk on his face. “You _**know**_ what I was doing Haymitch!” she cries, lips pursing in anger.

He laughs heartily, and Effie fists the bed sheets tighter in her hand, a frustrated noise escaping her throat.

“Well if you didn’t like it, you could have just left! How long were you standing here for anyway?”

“Long enough,” he counters, and her growl of frustration intensifies. She opens her mouth again, no doubt to yell at him to leave, but Haymitch continues.

“Long enough to see how you like to touch yourself. Long enough to see how you look when you come. And I didn’t say I didn’t like it, Princess,” he finishes, and her gaze wanders down again to where his erection is clearly apparent. She bites her lip lightly, seemingly unable to tear her gaze away, and Haymitch thinks that maybe she isn’t as uninterested as she’d like him to believe. 

He’s feeling awfully brave tonight, and he decides to draw her attention to her open robe. If she closes it and yells at him to leave, then he’ll know for sure that she’s not interested. If not, well.. that’s what he’s eager to find out.

“Your robe is open, you know?” he enquires, trying to keep his tone casual, but even to his own ears his voice seems to have dropped an octave, and his words come out sounding husky and ragged.

Effie looks down at her exposed breasts but makes no move to tie her robe shut, her hand remaining between her thighs, and when she looks back up at him, she seems to be battling with herself over something.

“Do you,” her voice is croaky, and she licks her lips, clears her throat, “do you want me to close it?” she whispers, and Haymitch has to stop his jaw from dropping to the ground.

“Fuck, no” he grinds out, taking a tentative step towards the bed “keep it open,” and Effie’s tongue peeks out to moisten her lips again as she slowly flattens the palm of her free hand against the bed. 

“Ok,” she breathes shakily as he reaches the end of the bed, and Haymitch thinks that may be the sweetest word he’s ever heard. Resting his knee on the edge of the bed, he pauses to look at her; really look at her. 

 

Her hair is bouncy and tousled from her earlier activities, resting on the peach gown that’s half covering her shoulders. She’s still blushing, skin still tinged with a slightly pink hue and he doesn’t know whether it’s from exertion, embarrassment or desire. Maybe all three, given what’s just transpired. She doesn’t look embarrassed though; nervous maybe, and possibly slightly apprehensive, but not embarrassed. Haymitch brings his hand up, thumb lightly stroking across the soft skin of her knee, and her legs part slightly; not a lot, and not enough for him to see anything, but they’re not pressed together as tightly as they had been before and Haymitch takes it as a sign.

“Do you do this often? Here, I mean, when I’m just the other side of the apartment?” he asks, hand opening up slightly to stroke more confidently along the softness of her leg.

“Sometimes,” Effie admits, voice cracking slightly as his touch moves up her thigh, stopping halfway up before slowly stroking back down, and it’s all Haymitch can do not to reach down and touch himself when her eyes flutter closed and her legs inch slightly further apart.  
He brings his thumbs to rest on the inside of her knees, but he doesn’t push her, doesn’t force her. Instead, he rubs soothingly against the silky skin he finds there, and after a minute or so he’s rewarded as her legs slowly part in front of him.

 

He moans aloud when he sees that she still has two fingers tucked inside herself; she must not have thought to remove them when she’d been alerted to his presence earlier, and the harsh sound from his lips causes her hips to give an almost imperceptible twitch forwards. She gives a little squeak at the slight movement, and her eyes fly up to meet his, teeth biting down more firmly on her bottom lip.

Using the hands he has resting on her knees, Haymitch moves so that he’s kneeling on the bed in front of her, never breaking eye contact with Effie as she remains in her half sitting, half reclining position. Her legs are fully open now, and when he glances down he can see that she’s still wet, moisture clearly apparent even while her hand is blocking most of the view.

“Can I watch you?” he requests, his voice as soft as he can manage, open palms stroking along the skin of her inner thighs, stopping before he reaches her center and retreating back to her knees. Her eyes close again, and she jerks her head in a nod, shifting backwards slightly as she explains in a faltering voice that she needs to lie down, golden hair fanning out around her head as she leans back on the pillow.

 

Once she’s situated, still and staring up at his face, she seems to freeze, unmoving under his gaze. She’s unsure, he realises, worried that he’s going to use this against her, and Haymitch knows he needs to reassure her somehow; needs to show her that he wants this just as much as she does.

“Show me how you like to touch yourself. How you like to be touched. I want to know how to make you come,” he murmurs heatedly, and that last part does the trick. She arches her back slightly, robe falling completely to the sides, and her free hand comes up to stroke along her breast, nipples tightening under her touch. She strokes her fingers aimlessly for a while, featherlight, teasing touches that avoid touching her nipples directly, and he knows she’s trying to get herself used to doing this while he watches.

“Your tits are fucking amazing,” he growls, and he feels the shiver that runs through her body at his coarse language, and her fingers finally come up to brush against her nipples, and who would have thought it; Effie Trinket likes to be talked dirty to.  
Emboldened by her reaction, he carries on, “If I used my mouth on you, I bet you’d go fucking wild,” and she squeezes her nipples between her thumb and her forefinger before releasing them and flicking at them lightly. 

“I wonder.. would you like it soft and gentle, or do you like it hard? Or maybe somewhere in between? Tell me. Tell me what you’d have me do with my mouth,” he asks, trying and failing to keep the pleading tone out of his voice.

“ _ **Oh!**_ Um..I.. Oh God Haymitch, I can’t, I..” she trails off, uncharacteristically lost for words, that pretty blush intensifying.

“It’s just us,” he soothes reassuringly, tearing his eyes away from her chest so that he can meet her gaze, “I told you; I want to know how to make you feel good,”

She closes her eyes and nods, and as much as he’d like for her to be able to see his face during this, he thinks that maybe this is the only way she can allow herself to lose control and so he bites his tongue for the moment. She’s quiet for a minute, lips opening slightly, reddened by her earlier biting, and he’s patient with her as she gathers herself and begins to speak.

“S.. soft to begin with. But _**deep**_ and hard, when you.. when you suck, and..” she breaks off with a gasp as she squeezes her fingers, tighter this time.

“Would you like that? If I used my mouth on you that way? Would you like it if I used my teeth? Not to hurt you.. just to scrape against you lightly as I suck your nipples hard.”

She nods her head as she breathes out _**oh yes, yes please,**_ and Haymitch looks down her body to see that her fingers are tentatively moving in and out, thumb resting against her clit and hips rolling in a steady rhythm. 

“Is this how you like it? Two fingers and something on your clit,” he manages, eyes transfixed by the wetness coating her fingers. She’s silent, no answer forthcoming, and he looks up to see a nervous look in her eyes. She’s opening and closing her mouth, clearly trying to decide whether to tell him something or not.

“Go on,” he urges, “you can tell me.”

She takes a deep breath, and he has to strain to hear her next words, she’s so quiet.  
“Sometimes, I.. sometimes I don’t use my fingers. I.. I..” and she’s _**really**_ blushing now, and Haymitch is intrigued.

“You what?” he prompts and he’s got a sneaking suspicion of what she’s talking about, has spent enough time in the Capitol that he knows what sorts of technologies they have available, and his pants suddenly feel two sizes too small.

“Inthebedsidecabinet” she rushes out, eyes closing again, and Haymitch pushes himself up onto slightly shaky legs as he makes his way round to open the drawer at the side of her bed.

He utters a muffled _**fuck**_ when he reaches in and gets a hold of the object in question, earlier suspicions confirmed, and instead of making his way back to his earlier position he settles down beside her, bed dipping as he stretches out alongside her, close but not quite touching.

 

He flicks the switch at the base to the lowest setting, vibrations immediately starting up, and Effie turns her head to look at him shyly as he brings his hand holding the vibrator up so that it lightly brushes against the tip of her breast. She makes a soft noise of pleasure, mouth opening slightly and Haymitch is struck with the image of what that mouth would look like stretched around his cock. He blinks tightly and tries to push _**that**_ particular thought out of his mind, bringing his attention back to his teasing touches to her breasts.

She seems to be enjoying this, he thinks so anyway, but he realises she hasn’t actually asked him to touch her, and so he asks her, “Do you want to take over with this? Or do you want me to carry on?”

Her _**oh you, please Haymitch, you**_ is immediate, and Haymitch trails the vibrations down to her stomach, pausing just before he reaches her center.

“I’m going to fuck you with this now. I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to imagine it’s my cock inside of you, and when you come, you’re going to scream my name. And then, I’m going to show you how I like to be touched. Ok?” he gets out, insecurity clawing at him for a moment as he hopes she doesn’t laugh his last request off. But he needn’t have worried, because Effie’s gasping, and _**yesyesyes oh please yes**_ , and she’s parting her legs fully as he moves the vibrations down until they’re focused on her clit.

Her hips jerk upwards as he starts to trail the buzzing tip in firm circles around her clit, her hands resuming their earlier movements against the peaks of her nipples, flicking and grasping and tugging until she’s gasping, before moving on to pay the same attention to the other breast.

He teases her for a while there, until she’s panting and a thin sheen of sweat is covering her skin, before pushing himself more firmly up onto his arm so that he can reach down and slide the length of the vibrator inside her to where he knows she’s warm, and wet and snug and _Jesus Christ,_ he really wishes it was his cock sliding into her.

He thrusts slowly at first, in and out at a steady pace until she gasps at him to go _harder, deeper,_ and he increases his movements, ignoring the ache in his arm as he pushes into her, hand coming into contact with her wetness now on every inward stroke. He pounds into her wetness until she’s babbling, incoherent with need, and it’s only when she starts a desperate chant of “Oh Haymitch, oh god, oh please, oh god haymitch” that he swiftly withdraws from her wet heat, thumb flicking the vibration setting up as he comes to rest the length of it directly against her clit.

Effie screams. 

There’s no other way to describe the sound that comes out of her mouth, and before he can think it through fully, he hurriedly moves his mouth to cover hers, her body thrashing on the bed and hips surging up against the vibrations. Her room is way over the other side of the apartment from the other bedrooms, and he knows that they’ve probably gone unheard up until this point, but that was _**loud**_ , and he will not have this disrupted by one of the kids thinking she’s being murdered in her bed.

He kisses her hard, tongue massaging and rolling against hers, and as she returns back to herself, reaching down to push the vibrator away from her sensitive clit, she returns the kiss enthusiastically, whimpering into his mouth as she clutches his arm.

 

He ends their kiss, and she sucks his bottom lip into her mouth as he goes, brushing their lips together when she finally releases him with a pop. He feels her hand come down to the button of his pants, tentatively moving to undo it, and he looks at her quizzically.

“You said you were going to show me,” she whispers, and Haymitch doesn’t need to be told twice; he reaches down and undoes his pants as quickly as he can manage, rolling onto his back as he pushes them down his legs, taking his underwear with them. His cock springs free and his hand immediately flies down, his eyes squeezing shut and a grunt sounding from his lips when his palm finally comes into contact with the hot and hard flesh. 

He feels her small hand come to rest on his thigh, and he opens his eyes to find her mirroring his earlier position, her elbow propped on the pillow beside his head. She’s watching him, eyes flicking between his face and his cock, and when her tongue comes out to lick her lips he lets out a harsh groan and his movements speed up.

He hears her clear her throat delicately, and he glances up until he’s looking her in the eye.

“Do you.. do you ever think of me while you do this?” she asks, voice shaking as her gaze trails down to watch the movements of his hand against his cock again.

“Oh fuck.. yeah Eff, I think of you,” he huffs out, seeing no use in lying to her now that they’ve seen each other like this.

Clearly emboldened by his admission, her hand starts to smooth softly against his thigh, and when she whispers, “Tell me what you think of. Please?” Haymitch is powerless to refuse.

“Fuck.. fuck. Your mouth. I think of your mouth. Your mouth sucking my cock. How you would look with my cock in your mouth. Jesus Eff, want your mouth,” he pants out.

 

His eyes closed, Haymitch initially dismisses the dip in the bed as Effie moving to make herself more comfortable.

He doesn’t register that she’s moved until he feels hair brushing against his thighs and her hands moving to push his legs further apart, and as his eyes fly open he looks down to find her staring back up at him from her new position between his thighs.

He wants to ask her what she’s doing, to tell her she doesn’t have to, but he can’t speak, can’t form the words; not when her nails are raking up and down his thighs and she’s biting that bloody bottom lip between her teeth again, and she’s gazing up at him like that.

Her hand finally gets to the top of his thigh and she grips his cock lightly in her hand, giving it a few teasing strokes up and down as she continues to hold his gaze.

She maintains eye contact as she lowers her head, torturously slowly, and when she reaches her destination she flicks her tongue against the head of his cock, collecting the beads of moisture that have gathered there and making a satisfied sound deep in her throat. That sound alone is almost enough to have Haymitch thrusting up against her mouth, but he grits his teeth and keeps his eyes on her as she continues to tease the head of his cock with light flicks of her tongue.

She keeps up her teasing for a while before finally parting her reddened lips and taking the tip of his cock in her mouth. She swirls her tongue around the sensitive skin she finds there before suddenly engulfing his cock in her wet heat, taking as much of his length as she can into his mouth, and sucking firmly as she releases him until just the tip remains. 

She repeats the motion, taking more of his cock into her mouth each time, hollowing her cheeks as she increases the pressure of her mouth. On her next upward stroke, she releases him from her mouth, lips darkened and wet with saliva as she presses open mouthed and wet kisses along the length of his shaft. She presses her tongue against the throbbing vein she finds there and licks a firm line from base to tip, and Haymitch’s hand fists in her hair; not pulling, or pushing, but holding it back so he can see her face as she sucks him off.

Fluttering her tongue against the head of his cock, she takes him in her mouth once more, tongue swirling against him as she resumes her earlier motions, head bobbing as she takes him in and out of her mouth.

He can feel himself approaching the edge, teetering and about to fall off, and he manages to gasp out a warning, unsure if she’s squeamish about this sort of thing.

She doesn’t move away. Instead, on the next bob of her head she takes as much of him as she can into her mouth, wraps her fingers around the base of his cock and hums.

 

The vibrations around his cock send Haymitch over the edge, and when he comes, it’s with her name on his lips.

 

When he’s come down from his high, and he’s shaky and sweating and breathing heavily, she releases his cock from her mouth, sits up on her knees and wipes the back of her hand against her mouth as demurely as she can manage, given the situation.  
Haymitch is gobsmacked. She’s nothing at all like he expected, and she’s looking at him and smiling, a soft and shy smile, even though two minutes ago she’d had his cock in her mouth, and why the fuck is he only seeing this side to her now?

He tries to think of something to say that will accurately convey his thoughts on what’s just transpired between the two of them, but his mouth is opening and closing and he thinks he must look like a fucking goldfish, and thankfully, Effie gets in there first.

“Well, it’s quite clear to me,” she says breathily, hands coming to rest on his chest, “that I should leave my door unlocked more often.”


	7. Needy, clingy, District 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted: #84 needy clingy sex set in District 13. The prompt called for it to be first time.  
> I hope this is ok- it became a bit like to one shot that did not want to end!

It’s his first night in his new living quarters after his enforced stay at the finest rehab facility in all of District Thirteen, and Haymitch is not at all surprised when he hears a knock at his door.

 

He’s been expecting it and so he’s not made any real effort to go to sleep, despite the fact that he’s been alone in this windowless room for the last two hours with only his own thoughts for company.

 

“Come in Sweetheart. I get this place all to myself.”

 

His door opens halfway, and a figure slips in before closing the door as silently as it had been opened, and when the figure turns around and steps into the dim light of the room he’s alone with Effie Trinket for the first time since they left the Capitol.

 

Sure, he’d seen her briefly in the boardroom when they’d gone over the propos that Katniss had filmed. He’d even indulged in a spot of flirting with her before turning back to the task at hand.

But when she’d got up, pushed her chair back neatly under the table and walked out of the room, she’d paused at the doorway and turned back to give him a fleeting look. It had been a loaded look, full of longing, and promise and _something_ , and he’d felt it resonate deeply in his chest.

 

That look had been enough for him to know that she’d come knocking tonight.

 

She’s fidgeting, hands smoothing over the front of her customised tunic as she makes her way towards him, eyes flitting around to focus on the floor, the walls, the ceiling; anywhere but him. It’s only when she’s come to a stop in front of him that she slowly lifts her face and lets her eyes meet his.

 

He looks at her face, and he’s immediately reminded of his earlier comment. It’s true; she really does look better without all of that makeup. She no longer looks like some sort of fantasy, some Capitol doll. She looks real, and Haymitch doesn’t want to dwell on why exactly he finds that so attractive.

 

Her mouth opens and then promptly closes again, and she looks like she’s got a thousand thoughts running through her head that she can’t voice.

 

Haymitch pats the bed next to him and she sits down gracefully, hands smoothing over the leggings she’s wearing, and Haymitch really tries not to let his eyes linger on the way the fabric is drawn tight against her thighs. Trust Effie to take something as unflattering as the uniform of this District and make it look like... that.

 

He’s drawn from his thoughts when he hears her clearing her throat delicately, finally breaking the silence that seems to have settled over the room like a dense fog.

 

“I didn't get a chance to talk to you properly after... well, after. How are you feeling?” she asks, voice soft and cautious, and one of her hands comes to rest tentatively next to his in the space between them on the bed, close but not touching.

“Sober,” he deadpans, and he waits for her to voice her disapproval at his flippant manner, but no disapproval comes. She’s silent again, and when Haymitch looks up at her face he’s horrified to see that her bottom lip is shaking tremulously, and her eyes are shining with unshed tears.

 

“Shit sweetheart, I didn’t mean... what's wrong?” he asks, and his hand moves before he can stop it to cover hers, squeezing in a way that he hopes comes across as reassuring.

 

Effie takes a shuddering breath, and she brings her other hand up to swipe at her eyes, brushing away the tears that threaten to fall.

 

“I'm sorry Haymitch. I came here to see how you were, and once again I've managed to make it all about myself. I just.. I haven't had a chance to speak with you properly, since.. since we arrived here,” she exhales shakily, and she shifts her hand under his so that their fingers entwine.

 

Haymitch tries not to focus on how her small hand feels in his, and how her thumb is brushing against his hand almost absent mindedly, and how the hell is her skin still this soft without all of her fancy lotions and stuff?

 

“It just feels like..like, one minute we were watching the games and then the next minute we were in the hovercraft, and then we were here, and you were gone, and I was alone, and..” she breaks off mid sentence, taking a deep breath as her hand grips his.

 

“Well, you’re not alone now. I’m here.”

 

Effie turns to look at him, and she looks lost, uncertain, and her hand grips onto his tighter as she starts to speak.

 

“Can.. can I stay here for a little while? With you, I mean. I had to avoid about three guards doing night patrols on the way here, and I'm worried that I'll run into them if I try and go back. And.. and I want to stay here with you,” she rushes the last part out, teeth worrying her bottom lip as she holds his gaze, the hand that’s entwined with his shaking slightly.

 

Haymitch realises with a jolt that this is it. His answer to this single question will determine where their relationship stands. If he makes a sarcastic comment, if he mocks her after she's laid her feelings on the line, they'll go back to the way they were before. But if he gives in and tells her to stay, he'll be admitting something to her and to himself; he doesn't know what exactly, hasn't made sense of it in his head, but it's _something_ and the thought terrifies and thrills him in equal measure.

 

Mind made up, he opens his mouth and speaks.

 

“You can stay here. Room's a bit quiet when it's just me. And I'd like you to stay,” he admits, and her answering smile is soft and genuine and _trusting_ , and Haymitch feels a tightening in his chest at the thought of her trusting him. At the thought of anyone trusting him.

 

Effie's leg bumps up against his as she shifts closer, and her thumb resumes its earlier brushing across his hand, and Haymitch wonders if this night is headed where he thinks it might be headed. Where he _hopes_ it's headed. The light from the lantern on his desk is casting a flickering light across her face, and her gaze seems to be flitting between his eyes and his lips.

 

“Should we - I mean shall we - do you want to um.. lie down? It's late,” she says, and her voice is hushed, a shy whisper of a thing, but Haymitch thinks the intent behind her words is clear, and he feels his heart start to beat a little faster.

 

He nods his head and untangles their fingers as he shifts, turning around to pull back the covers on the narrow bed, and when he turns back to face her she's standing in front of the bed, shoes off and hands smoothing down the front of her tunic nervously. She seems tiny, vulnerable with her bare feet, and she's close enough that if he reached his hands out, he could rest them on her hips.

 

He's trying his very best not to think about how it would feel to stroke over her skin with his fingers, to feel her come alive under his touch, and he's grateful when her hands start to move upwards, giving him something else to focus on.

 

He follows her hands, and when they stop at the scarf wrapped around her head he lets his eyes settle on hers, but she's avoiding his gaze, eyes focused on a spot on the wall just above his head.

 

“If we're going to...lie down,” she explains falteringly, hands starting to unwrap the twist, “then I think I'll take this off. It's more comfortable.”

 

He makes a noise that he hopes sounds like approval, but really he doesn't have a clue what it actually sounds like when it comes out of his mouth, and after what seems like an age, the scarf falls away from her head, and suddenly he's seeing her properly for the first time.

 

Her hair is pinned up onto the top of her head, and it's blonde, and now that he's seeing it he thinks he has a dim memory of stumbling into the wrong room on the train once and being faced with blonde curls spread across a pillow, but he isn't sure if he's imagining that.

 

Effie reaches her hand up and busies herself removing the clips and pins that are holding her hair in place, and when she's finished, and her hair falls around her face, Haymitch has to push down the sigh that nearly escapes from his mouth because _holy shit_ , she is beautiful. She's wearing no makeup, her hair is unstyled, and even with her adjustments there's still no escaping the fact that she's wearing a uniform, and yet the sight of her threatens to steal the breath from his lungs.

 

She's searching for somewhere to put the hairclips that she's holding in her hand, and she seems oblivious to his awestruck expression as she takes the couple of steps over to the table where she leaves the contents of her hand before making her way back over to him.

 

She stands in front of him, hands fiddling slightly as she looks at him expectantly, and he belatedly remembers that they were going to lie down. Right. _Lie down_. Haymitch moves the blankets back from the bed, shuffling along slightly so that he's laying on his side with his back up against the wall.  

 

There's a blush spreading across her face as she climbs into the bed, and there's not enough space for two, barely enough space for one, so she has no choice but to press herself up against him lightly as she lies down next to him and he draws the blanket up and over them. They're both still wearing all of their clothes, but he can feel her heart beating, and her feet are cold as they brush against him, and she's biting her lip as the blush on her cheeks intensifies.

 

He's still speechless, lost for words at the sight of her like this, and he hesitantly brings a hand up to touch her hair, coiling a lock of it around his finger as his thumb brushes against her face softly.

 

“Is this.. is this ok?” she asks hesitantly, and he doesn't know if she's referring to the way they're pressed together, or the way she looks, but he's answering for both when he replies, “It's more than ok.”

 

Haymitch brings his hand down so that it's resting on her hip under the blanket, and Effie grips his shoulder tightly as she licks her lips, and suddenly the air between them feels charged. He lets his gaze flicker between her eyes and her lips, and he feels the beat of her heart increase where she's pressed up against him.

 

“Effie, I,” he starts, but that's all he manages to get out because suddenly she's surging forward and crashing her lips against his in a messy and forceful kiss. It feels as if it's coming from a place of desperation, of yearning, and Haymitch licks his tongue against the seam of her lips until she opens for him, mouth softening slightly under his.

 

Their tongues slide against each other for a while, and Effie's clinging to him, fingers tangled in his hair, and he's not sure if the moans he can hear are coming from her or from himself.

 

Haymitch opens his eyes, wanting to see the look on her face, and he's greeted with the sight of tears filling her eyes again.  

 

“I'm sorry, we shouldn't..” he starts after he's torn his lips away from hers, a frown stealing across his face as he regards her with concern.

 

“No! No, please don't apologise,” she rushes out, hand leaving his hair and coming to rest at the side of his face, fingers lightly stroking across the stubble she encounters at his jaw. “I just--it's been so long Haymitch, and I didn't know when I was going to see you again, and I've felt so alone without you here, and I thought maybe we'd missed--I want this. _I_ _need_ _you_ , _please_.”

 

Effie brushes her lips against his, hand still stroking over his jaw, and Haymitch tries to tamp down the wave of pure arousal that shoots through him at her admission. She grabs onto his collar and urges him towards her, and when Effie rolls onto her back Haymitch goes with her, settling above her as both of her hands come to rest on his shoulders.

 

Effie's leg lifts up off the bed to hook over his, and when she tips her head back slightly Haymitch takes his cue, bringing his head down to brush his lips lightly over the exposed skin of her neck. The little sigh she makes spurs him on, and he peppers kisses along soft skin on display, his hands remaining at the neutral territory of her waist. She's breathing heavily, chest heaving under his, and when he swirls his tongue around her thundering pulse she whimpers, and Haymitch feels his cock stir within the confines of his pants.

 

He carries on with his teasing touches for a couple of minutes until she's panting beneath him. One of her hands has come up to tangle in his hair at some point, and she yanks him up to claim his lips in a fiery kiss, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him down so that his hardness is pressed up against the apex of her thighs. She gasps into his mouth and her hips rock up slightly so that she brushes against him, and Haymitch breaks the kiss with a groan, forehead coming to rest against hers.

 

“Christ Effie. Can I see you? I need to see you,” he pants, and it takes a second but then she registers the meaning of his words, a blush on her cheeks as she nods her head against his.

 

He knows that his hands are shaking as he brings them down to grasp the edge of her tunic, and he's not sure if it's because of the withdrawal or if it’s because he's finally seeing her like this, but as he pulls the material upwards and inch after inch of her milky white skin is exposed before his eyes he thinks that if this is what sobriety looks like, maybe he'll keep up with it after all.  

 

Effie's obviously losing patience with his slow work, and before he can tease her further she's batting his hands away, pulling the tunic over her head and untangling her arms before throwing it across the room in an uncharacteristically careless move.

 

Then she's lying in front of him, District issued bra simple but still displaying a faint hint of cleavage, and Haymitch can feel his hands starts to shake once more as he smooths them up and over her stomach to rest at the edge of the black fabric.

 

Effie's back lifts up off the bed, and her arms reach behind her back awkwardly, and it takes a few seconds of movement but then she's removing the garment and dropping it to the floor, and her top half is completely bare before him, and Haymitch thinks he may have just lost the ability to speak.

 

His hands are still in place, only now he's a millimetre away from the curve of her bare breast, and her nipples are straining and erect, and when he brings his thumbs up to swipe lightly across the rosy peaks, a gasp of his name tumbles from her lips. Haymitch cups her breasts gently, thumbs still swiping across her, and on the next swipe when he flicks slightly he's rewarded with her breathy “ _Please!_ ”

“Tell me what you like?” he requests, and he wants to please her, wants to watch her coming apart and writhing under his hands, and he's not sure what he's done to deserve this, but he's sure as hell not going to mess it up. His mouth meets hers in a short and almost chaste kiss, and then he draws back slightly to look at her as she opens her mouth to speak.

 

“Oh. When you flicked, I--do that again? And your mouth, _oh God_ Haymitch your mouth please, I want you so much,” she manages to choke out, her face flushing almost scarlet under the scrutiny of his gaze, and Haymitch flicks both thumbs over her nipples simultaneously, rewarded by a hitch in her breath and her eyes fluttering closed.

 

Haymitch leans his head down and Effie fists her hands in his hair, back arching up to meet him, but he avoids her nipples, instead pressing open mouthed kisses over the swells of her breasts until she's squirming underneath him, the little noises that are escaping from her mouth almost constant now.

 

When he’s teased her enough, when she’s shaking and quivering below him, Haymitch lets his mouth fall hungrily on her breasts, tongue swirling around one nipple before sucking it deeply into his mouth, lips pulling as he twists and teases the other with his fingers. When he releases her nipple from his mouth, he lets his teeth scrape lightly across the hardened peak and is rewarded with a high pitched “ _oh yes, that, that!_ ”

 

He switches to her other breast and repeats his motions, her hips jerking up towards him and her hands pulling lightly on his hair. Then suddenly she's pushing his head away, gasping and bringing his mouth up to meet hers. It's not a refined kiss; it's somewhat sloppy, and they're both slightly short of breath, but she's clinging to him like he's the last good thing on earth, and Haymitch thinks that maybe this is what dying feels like. Or living; in this case, he's not sure which is the better analogy.

 

It takes him a few seconds before he realises that her hands are tugging at the collar of his shirt, and when he pulls back to look at her quizzically, her shy request of, “Take this off?” has him pausing.

 

Haymitch thinks of the men she's probably been with in the past, and then he thinks of his own scars and he wonders what her reaction will be when she sees them. Will she be shocked, he wonders? Speechless in the face of his battered body, and unable to look him in the eye? Her whispered, “Please Haymitch,” has him acquiescing, and once he's unbuttoned the shirt and deposited it on the floor, he lets his eyes meet hers, and waits.

 

She makes no comment on what she sees, but her soft hands map out the contours of his body, cataloguing every scar, every badly healed wound, and once she's completed her inspection she tips her head up so that their lips meet in a ghost of a kiss, noses brushing against each other lightly. She brings his hands down to rest at the waistband of her leggings, and when she mumbles “take these off too” against his mouth, Haymitch takes a deep intake of breath and wills himself to stay calm.

 

Despite the shaking of his hands, Haymitch manages to work remarkably quickly, pulling the leggings down her legs as she shifts to undo the fastenings of his pants, and after some awkward shuffling on both parts suddenly there's only the thin fabric of their undergarments separating them.

 

Effie's now bare legs come up to wrap around his waist and pull him towards her, moaning aloud when his hardness meets her center, and when Haymitch shifts forward experimentally, her hips surge up to meet his, and he can feel the heat of her through the cotton of her panties.

 

Their hips work in tandem for a few minutes, lips and tongues sliding against each other with an increasing sense of urgency, and when Haymitch brings his hands down to rest at the edge of her panties Effie moans into his mouth, head nodding frantically against his.

 

Haymitch slides the panties down and off Effie's legs, and when he sees her completely bare before him for the first time he has to remind himself how to breathe. Her skin is soft and smooth, unmarred and free of any blemishes, and not for the the first time, Haymitch feels a pang of anxiety as he's reminded of the two completely different worlds they inhabit. Or inhabited, as the case may be.

 

But then Effie's hand hesitantly closes around his wrist and draws him closer towards her, and Haymitch pushes those thoughts out of his mind. He lets his fingertips edge towards her, and when he finds her warm and wet he moans lowly in his throat, and her breath hitches as he lightly trails a finger around the circumference of her clit.

 

Her gasp of his name is high pitched and needy and it spurs Haymitch on, his fingers continuing their teasing touches to her clit before pausing to flick it slightly, and the noise that comes out of Effie's mouth is somewhere between a sob and a moan.

 

The sound shoots straight to Haymitch's cock, and he crushes his mouth to her neck again, groaning against the slightly salty skin, and when he combines a deep sucking kiss with a particularly firm rub of her clit, Effie's nails dig into the skin of her shoulders and her hips jerk up against him sharply.

 

She breathes out a “Please!” and when he says _Tell me?_ she hisses “Inside” and Haymitch lets his fingers shift down through her wetness until they're resting at her entrance, pausing for a beat before letting his middle finger slide inside and withdraw before easing two fingers back in.

 

Effie's mouth drops open slightly, her tongue coming out to moisten her bottom lip as he maintains his slow thrusts in and out, and she's so wet, so warm around his fingers, and Haymitch can't help but moan when he thinks of what she would feel like around his cock.

 

The thought has him speeding up his thrusts, fingers sliding in and out with ease and curling slightly to massage that slightly roughened patch of skin he encounters. Her reaction is instantaneous, hands flailing slightly as her hips thrust up against his hand with more vigour.

 

Haymitch can tell she's close, on edge after his previous teasing, and so he lets his fingers thrust harder and his thumb comes up to swipe firmly over her clit and then she's gone, crying out and shattering below him as she tenses around his fingers. He brings his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply and swallowing her gasps as his fingers continue moving inside of her.

 

His fingers are still moving within her steadily when her hands start to travel down his back, stopping when they reach the edge of his underwear and Haymitch has to break their kiss to pant “Are you sure?” against her lips, and her breathy _I'm sure Haymitch, now please_ has him bringing one of his own hands down to help her.

 

There's some shuffling, some kicking of legs as they work in tandem to free him of his last remaining garment and then it's gone, and Effie's wrapping her legs around his waist and reaching down for his cock.

 

Haymitch has to suck in a deep breath as her thumb comes up to stroke across the tip, and then her hand is encircling him, lazily stroking him up and down a few times before moving her hand away and bringing both arms up to wrap around his neck.

 

Haymitch takes his cue, gripping his cock and letting it slide through her wetness a couple of times and then he's pushing forward, sliding into her agonisingly slowly, Effie's lips parting as he fills her. He breathes through his nose, forcing himself to stay still as he allows her a few seconds to adjust to the feel of him, and then she's gripping those arms tighter around his neck, teeth biting down into her bottom lip as she thrusts up against him.

 

He keeps his movements slow and unhurried at first, hands on the bed holding him upright as he shallowly thrusts in and out of her wet heat. She's making these noises, little moans and sighs of his name, and she's enjoying this, that much is obvious, but Haymitch wants to see her fall apart again, wants her to reach that peak and lose control beneath him, and so after a few minutes he draws back so that he's on his knees, arms hooking under her thighs and hands coming to rest at her hips, pulling her forward so that her ass is resting against his thighs and her hips are tilted slightly upwards towards him.

 

When he enters her again, one long thrust so that his cock is buried to the hilt inside of her wetness, it's immediately apparent that the change in angle has been one of his better ideas, as Effie's breath catches audibly and her mouth drops open again.

 

He shifts her thighs upwards slightly, not bothering to stifle his moan when he feels her tighten around him, and then he withdraws almost completely, waiting a beat of a second before slipping back inside her, and the noise she makes is unlike anything he's ever heard from her before, her eyes fluttering shut and jaw trembling as her nails rake lightly against his chest in a move that has his own eyes closing momentarily before opening to focus on her.

 

Haymitch thinks she's possibly the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life; face and body bare before him, skin flushed and covered with a light sheen of sweat, her stomach muscles twitching slightly as he slides in and out of her. He wants to carry on with his teasing strokes; wants to stretch this out for as long as he possibly can, bringing her to the edge over and over again before he lets her hit that peak. But his body is still weakened from the withdrawal and he thinks he can probably only go a few more minutes on his knees before he has to change positions, lest he collapse.

 

Tightening his grip on her hips, Haymitch gives a deep thrust that has her crying out below him, his tempo increasing as he groans out “Touch yourself, please?” and he can hear the pleading tone of his voice but he can't bring himself to care how he sounds at this moment in time, focusing instead on Effie, and the way her head is tipped back, neck exposed and breasts bouncing slightly as his cock moves within her.

 

He half expects her to refuse, her body already so open and on display before him but he's blown away when she not only brings a hand down to rub against her clit, but also lets her other hand trail up her stomach and cup her breast, pinching her nipple between her thumb and forefinger before releasing and flicking against it lightly.

 

He watches her for as long as he can; watches the way she touches herself, the way her thumb slides against her swollen clit as his cock continues its slide in and out, but then his knees start to protest at holding his weight for so long, and he pitches forward, arms and elbows resting on the bed alongside her head as he leans over her and lets his mouth settle against hers. His fingers fist in her hair as his cock drives into her, and he's fucking her hard now, his hips pounding against her and he's lost the ability to hold back, **_can’t_ ** hold back, not when she's so tight and hot and he thinks that maybe he wants to feel this every day for the rest of his life.

 

She's close, he can tell from the way she's clenching around him and moaning into his mouth, her hand moving jerkily against her clit where it's trapped between them, and Haymitch can feel his own climax approaching, and he's damned if he's going to come before she does.

 

“Come, Eff. I need you to come for me, please,” he groans against her lips, and the movement of her hand against her clit intensifies as he thrusts into her deeply, and he wants to tell her she's beautiful, wants so much to tell her that she's all he'll ever need, but his lips won't form the words and then suddenly she's coming, back arching as she lets out a strangled moan of his name, and Haymitch is dimly aware that the bed frame is scraping against the floor, and if someone were to walk past right now they'd know exactly what's going on in here but he can't stop, and when he spills himself inside of her, he does so with a shout of her name.

 

Their movements slow until they come to a stop, mouths still pressed together softly, and when he breaks away and gasps out “You--I--” before faltering, Effie seems to understand and cuts him off with a kiss, lips brushing tenderly against him with a whispered  _later_.

 

Haymitch rolls off her, not wanting to crush her with his weight and she rolls with him, legs tangling together and lips moving against each other in a languid kiss as she settles against his side, and Haymitch wishes he had some of her positivity right now.

 

There may not be a later; he knows that and he thinks that deep down, Effie must know it too. She'd come here after all, laid her feelings on the line in front of him as if she had nothing left to lose. So she must know there's a possibility of no tomorrow.

 

But for now they're here, and Haymitch can almost pretend they're the only ones. And when tomorrow night comes, and for as many nights that they're in this District, she'll be here.

 

  
And that's enough.


End file.
